


Distractions

by GrumpyJenn



Series: Friends Through Time and Space [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sarah Jane Adventures, Torchwood
Genre: Explicit Language, Non-canon Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-24
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:58:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrumpyJenn/pseuds/GrumpyJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Further Adventures in time and space</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [areyoumarriedriver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/areyoumarriedriver/gifts), [SnowyAshes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowyAshes/gifts), [thesesongsaretrue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesesongsaretrue/gifts), [ScrewedRiver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScrewedRiver/gifts), [Kerjen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerjen/gifts).



> I don't think they'll ever lay down canon to cover Sarah Jane's death...

Captain Jack Harkness, intrepid explorer of time and space, lay protectively - though dead - over Evie’s unconscious form.

It didn’t last very long, of course. That was Jack’s blessing - and his curse - that even death didn’t last very long, So when he woke up, he thanked his lucky stars that Evie was still out cold; he shuddered to think how she might’ve reacted to being pinned under the dead body of her favourite bedmate here in the nearly-complete blackness of her bedroom at Luna University.

Or what was left of it, anyway.

At least the Moon had been terraformed by the fifty-second century; Jack _really_ didn’t want to think about what would have happened if the quake that had apparently leveled the university had occurred before there was air on the satellite. He would have survived of course, but he didn’t really relish the thought of dying every ten seconds or so as he woke again and again without air around him. And Evie... god, Evie would never have survived that. Even as it was she had a bruise the size of a branka fruit on one delicate cheekbone, and that even _after_ he had protected her from falling masonry as best he could.

It hadn’t been enough, obviously, because she was still unconscious several minutes after he’d come back. He checked again. Still breathing. Good.

For a moment Jack marveled at how calm he was, considering how completely undone he had been the last time Evie had been in danger. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised dimly that although he was mostly immune to shock in the medical sense, he was as prone to _emotional_ shock as the next human. Maybe more. And if he lost Evie _now_ , without the preparation of years of her life to insulate him, well... _that_ didn’t really bear thinking about either.

He shifted so he wasn’t crushing her but near enough to protect her in case of aftershocks - there wasn’t a lot of space in here anyway - and settled down to wait. After all, he had all the time in the world.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“I’m so sorry, my love,” said River Song as she stood in her cell in Stormcage, gazing sympathetically at the young-seeming man lounging in the TARDIS doorway. His usual tweed jacket and jeans had been traded for a black suit and his jaunty bow tie for a straight black tie. He looked young and ancient and achingly sad all at once, and River wanted nothing more than to make it all better for him. But she knew she couldn’t. He should never - _ever_ \- go to the funerals of old companions, and going to _her_ funeral... well, that was practically begging for heartache.

River had never met Sarah Jane Smith, but she knew the Doctor had loved her, in some ways more than he had loved any other companion, ever.

But here he was, looking unimaginably hearts-broken at the loss of a friend he had seen only twice in the past several hundred years. He felt things deeply, her Doctor. He was capable of displays of affection, and certainly of outbursts of tempery frustration, but love was one of the few things he rarely showed outwardly, and almost never spoke aloud. He felt it too deeply and was too afraid of losing it if he said it in so many words.

What he needed most right now, River felt, was a distraction. She pondered as she watched him point his sonic screwdriver at the security camera, moving his hand as though the screwdriver was suddenly heavy. _What can I distract him with?_ she thought as he trudged toward her cell door, _what can I use?_ Sex - however much they enjoyed it - seemed somewhat crass given the circumstances, unless he showed interest by initiating an encounter, which was unusual. _Poor lonely Time Lord..._ She shook her head as if to clear it as he sonicked the door, and decided she’d just work with whatever came to hand... improvisation _was_ one of her best skills after all. And there was almost certainly trouble to be found _somewhere_ near him.

There always was.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

When Evie woke, she wasn’t sure she had opened her eyes. It was so _dark_. But as her vision adjusted to where she could see dimly, she realised that while she was still in her room, the room itself had collapsed in on her, what was left of the ceiling only half a meter above her head.

And that was when she started to panic.

Jack didn’t notice that Evie was awake until he heard her rapid and shallow breathing. “Evie!” he exclaimed, “Sweetheart, are you alright? Evie?” He put a hand out to lay it gently on her shoulder, but fumbled in the gloom and brushed against the bruise on her face. She started and screamed, a high and terrified sound, and then she began to shake violently, still hyperventilating and batting at Jack’s hands. _Shit,_ Jack thought, _not a good time for this!_ “Sweetheart, Evie, come on,” he said as soothingly as he could manage, “Come on baby, focus, I’m right here, you’re safe, you’re OK, Evie, come on...” and on and _on_ for several minutes as Evie struggled to control herself.

“Can’t... I... can’t _breathe_...”

“Sure you can, sweetheart, focus, slow breath in...” She took a breath, deeper but still gasping. “Slow breath out, that’s it...” The breath out was a stuttering sob. “OK, lovely Evie, you can do it. Again, slow breath in...” Slower and deeper breath this time. “Slow breath out... good girl, sweet Evie. Again. Good. Again.” Her breathing was deeper now, slower, but she was still shaking like a leaf and she continued to strike out at Jack when he tried to soothe her with his hands. _I don’t know how to do this!_ he fretted, because how could he comfort her if he couldn’t even _touch_ her? Maybe if he gave her some warning... Jack clenched his teeth in frustration but kept his voice soft and soothing.  “Evie, I’m going to rest my hand on your arm, OK?”

Evie shook her head frantically, but then gave a doubtful nod, and when he did brush his hand lightly against her shoulder she flinched away... but let out a deep shuddering sigh as she clutched desperately at his hand.

Then she began to cry.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor stood, trembling with repressed emotion, inside the protective circle of his wife’s arms, his face buried in the spicy-sweet scent of her hair. He did not want to cry, he _would not_ cry, humany wumany emotion, except that now and then a tear escaped into the riotous mass of River’s curls. _Oh my Sarah Jane_ , he thought, _you would have loved her too_... and then the grief was too much for him and he wept. River made a sympathetic sound in the back of her throat and manoeuvred him out of the cell and into the TARDIS. She pushed him gently in the direction of the TARDIS-blue sofa and went to the console, murmuring something quietly, after which the characteristic whooshing sound indicated that Sexy was dematerializing.

River walked to where her husband sat on the sofa, tears trickling down his face and dripping off his chin. She shook her head as she sat down beside him, pulling a soft cloth from her pocket and wiping his face. “Oh, Sweetie,” she murmured in his ear as she kissed his cheek, “Why did you go to the funeral? They’re not good for you.” She wrapped her arms around him and leaned back so that his head was cradled on her shoulder and sighed, “Her children asked you to go, didn’t they?” She smiled sadly as she felt him nod into the curve of her neck. “I suppose there was no help for it then.”

“I loved her.” His voice was barely audible.

“I know,” she said quietly, combing her fingers through his hair.

“I couldn't refuse Luke and Sky...”

“No, of course not,” she soothed, dropping a kiss on the top of his head.

The Doctor sniffled, and although it was hardly a romantic or an adult sound, River knew it was an indication that he would be alright. He just needed time. And that distraction. Which reminded her... “Sweetie,” she said, “I asked Sexy to take us where she pleased; any objections?” He pulled away from her slightly and shook his head no, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. _Another one,_ River thought, _of those childish gestures that even paired with his baby face somehow did not make him seem young_. She kissed him gently, and he clung to her for a moment, and then he pulled away and took a deep breath.

“Right,” he said in something approaching his usual voice, “let’s see what Sexy’s got for us.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

Evie was still crying.

Jack had seen her cry - gently - before, when moved by something profound, but he’d never seen her cry _violently_ like this, in great gasping sobs, nearly in hysterics, and he _ached_ with the need to help her. But except for her one hand clutching at his so hard she ground the bones together, she was still flinching away each time he tried to touch her, and he didn’t know _how_ to comfort without contact. Well, talking her through it had worked before, so he decided to try it again. He took a deep breath. “Evie, sweet Evie, tell me what’s wrong...” He could barely hear her answering mutter. “Come on honey, you can tell me, I’m here,” His voice lowered teasingly as he said, “What kind of psychiatrist can’t talk about her feelings, huh?”

Evie let go of his hand and turned over, facing away from him, and now the sobs were if anything even more violent. _Shit! Wrong choice,_ he thought, now what? _Can’t talk to her, can’t touch her, can’t... wait. Appeal to the professional..._ “Evie,” he said, voice soft and a little angry. “ _You_ are the psychiatrist here. What would _you_ do if you had a patient in the grip of a panic attack and then hysteria, if you were all alone with your patient, no backup, no medication. _What would you do_?” His voice was louder now, insistent, and he was starting to babble but he didn’t care, because he _had_ to get through to her “Tell me, Professor Eva Jones, what would you do if you were alone with this patient? You can’t use the usual remedy for hysteria, because she’s already injured and you’d never hit her anyway, even for her own good, you couldn’t forgive yourself, and... and... oh _hell,_ Evie, please, just help me help you.” This last was whispered but Evie had stopped crying aside from the occasional hitched breath, and she was listening to him, and she’d turned over so she could see his outline dimly.

“You were right,” she whispered miserably, “I’m no kind of psychiatrist. I can’t even control my _self_.”

“I think you’re wrong about that, Evie.” His voice was gentle again.

“I’m _not_. What kind of shrink has panic attacks?”

“The kind who hasn’t bothered to treat herself,” he snapped, “or get any treatment from the dozens of psychiatrists all around her! God, Evie, how often does this happen?” He was impatient now.

“Not often,” she said humbly, “I’m usually able to avoid the triggering circumstances, but...”

“Shut up, Evie,” Jack said, annoyance and frustration and _need_ all clear in his voice.

And then he kissed her.


	2. Trust

“What,” said the Doctor. “What?”

“Wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” said River wryly, “but needs must...”

They gazed together at the console screen and the news report of the meteor strike and resultant quake on Luna in the 52nd century. A list of names was scrolling slowly, and River clutched at the Doctor’s arm. “Professor Eva Jones,” she said dully, “that’s our Evie. Missing, presumed...” she choked and he looked at her sharply.

“River, we will not let that happen,” he said urgently, turning to her and taking her hands in his. “Sexy wouldn’t have shown it to us if it couldn’t be rewritten.” He brought their joined hands together to his mouth and kissed her fingertips. “Trust me, my River,” he murmured against her skin, “we can fix this.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Even as Jack kissed her, Evie’s mind was relentless; it went around and around, chastising her, taunting her with her own inadequacies. _Stupid girl,_ it said, _can’t even control yourself_ , and she pulled away from Jack, pushing at him as he tried to follow. “Leave me alone!” she cried and shoved him hard enough that his head hit the fallen masonry behind him.

“Ow! What the hell, Evie?” he yelped, rubbing the back of his head and banging his elbow on yet another piece of fallen stone in the process. _Tight spaces_ , thought Evie wildly, and she began to laugh. It was more than half hysterical and she flinched away from him as she recognised that; sure that this time he _would_ hit her to snap her out of it, no matter what he had said a few minutes ago.

But he didn’t. He just muttered to himself for a bit, too quietly for her to understand, and then she felt him take a deep breath. “Evie,” he said gently, “I need you to tell me why you’re so afraid, afraid of the dark, afraid of tight spaces... and afraid of _me_...” He trailed off, hoping she would speak, but she didn’t, and so he continued. “Did... I mean, did somebody hurt you? Or scare you, because I--”

“--Bugger off, Jack, I’m not _that_ bad a shrink,” she interrupted, her voice quiet but bitingly angry, “No childhood trauma, no abusive relationships, not even bratty siblings locking me in a closet for a prank.” Her voice was rising now but at least it was no longer hysterical. Now she was just seriously pissed off. _That’s good_ , he thought, _anger is better than fear_. “If it were that fucking simple, I’d have taken care of it long ago. But it’s not; there _is no reason_ for this phobia. Some fucking shrink, huh?” This last was hurled at him almost defiantly, and although he couldn’t see her clearly, he got the impression that her hands were clenched into tight fists. “Right,” she practically spat at him when he didn’t answer, “ _No_ kind of shrink who can’t even make her own mind behave... what are you _doing_?”

Jack had taken one of her tiny fists into his larger hands and was slowly and carefully massaging the fingers and wrist until the hand relaxed, and then he repeated the process on the other hand. “I hadn’t realised,” he said conversationally, “how... repressed you are, Professor Jones.” At her indignant sputter (although he noticed she didn’t pull her hand away from his), he smiled. “Maybe repressed isn’t quite the right word,” he acknowledged, “but you give yourself far too little credit and you bottle up an awful lot. You have this... persona, I guess, the one that says you’re sweet and kind and competent and intelligent and forgiving. And you _are_ all those things, Evie, you truly are. But you’re also phobic and insecure and _nobody knows that_. Not your colleagues, not your friends, not your lovers.” He dropped a kiss on her nose and she did not protest. “I - Boe - loved you for years, but he didn’t _know_ you, did he? Does anyone?” He shook his head. “Never mind, unfair question.”

“Your day for them,” she muttered, pulling her hand away, but keeping it relaxed now.

“You remind me of River that way, you know,” he said, recapturing the hand and bringing it to his lips, “I made her cry once, by comparing her to you... hey!” Evie had yanked her hand away.

“Lovely to hear, Jack, that you made one of my - and _your_ \- best friends in the whole universe _cry_ by comparing her to me. For which of us was the comparison favourable?” _Bless but I’m snippy,_ Evie thought, _and damn if it doesn’t feel good. Something to be said for catharsis._

“It was favourable for both of you. I told her...” Jack closed his eyes for a moment, remembering “I told her that you and she shared a generous spirit. She cried and said she was nothing like as generous as you are, but the Doctor and I convinced her that she _is_ \- just for a much smaller circle of people. Because you, Evie, are generous with everyone. Apparently even those you don’t trust. River hides her insecurities behind brashness and guns. You hide yours behind sweetness and light.”

“Never said I was perfect...” Evie muttered.

“No,” Jack said bluntly, “but you sure give off the impression that you are. You hide your problems well... Out of curiosity, how did you ever manage to get through medical school - as a psychiatrist no less - without anyone ever finding out you have a crippling phobia?”

Evie ducked her head. “I cheated,” she admitted in a shamed tone.

“ _You_ cheated? I didn’t know you had it in you.” He was teasing her now, but this time it didn’t seem malicious. If she was honest with herself it hadn’t been malicious before either, but she had been too... _overwrought_ , she decided... at the time to realise that it was just teasing. “Tell me how you did it,” he encouraged her, and she managed a weak chuckle. He _would_ like that, wouldn’t he?

“I knew I could handle almost all the tests,” Evie said slowly, “but I had to... to arrange to be um... not-deprived in the sensory deprivation tank.” She shivered and his hands moved from where they had drifted to hers, carefully up her arms to hug, giving her plenty of time to protest. She didn’t, and the shivers eased. “I got a friend to pick the lock on the Medical Technology lab - I told her I was pranking the professor - and I stole some temporary retinal and auditory implants. When I climbed into the tank I could see and hear what was programmed into the implants, so to me it _wasn’t_ dark and quiet. It was still a tight space but without the dark and the quiet I was okay.” She shrugged, shoulders shifting under his hands.

Jack pulled her closer. “This OK now?” She nodded, a bit hesitantly but better than before. “I just want you to know, Evie, that if I could see you clearly, my expression would be one of unadulterated admiration.” His voice was warm and amused, and Evie relaxed slightly. “But sweetheart, you’re surrounded by psychiatrists every day. Surely you could ask for help.”

Evie’s chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “Oh of course, the short pudgy ginge with the freckles, the one who looks about twelve, asking for help because she’s afraid of the dark. That would inspire confidence in my colleagues and patients, certainly.”

Jack’s laugh on the other hand was warm and full, until he threw his head back and banged it on the tumbled wall again. “Ow. Fuck,” he said, still chortling. “God, Evie, once you decide to let down that sweet-and-simple shield, you sure have a biting tongue. And Evie? Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trusting me with yourself.”

This time she kissed him.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

River often wondered why - given that they had a time machine who loved them both - there was still a sense of urgency in situations like these. Because just now she wanted nothing more than to pound on Sexy’s console in frustration as their husband sometimes did, just so they could get to their friend faster. She knew this was utter rubbish; they would get there when they got there.

That knowledge didn’t help.

So she was relieved when the wheezing noise (finally!) indicated that the Doctor had left the brakes on again, because it was audible evidence that they were _doing_ something, getting somewhere. Her husband looked up from where he sat brooding in the jump seat, his expression lightening. “Ready, my River? Got your kit?” He looked... purposeful, she decided, but not particularly worried. Good sign. She patted the cargo vest slung over the railing and smiled at him.

“And yours, my love,” she said, kissing him gently and snapping something round his wrist. He glanced down at it and frowned.

“A perception filter, River? Why?”

She sighed, her green eyes sad. “Because, my love,” she said quietly, “in this time and place they believe that you’re dead and I’m your killer. I’d rather not get arrested again, and you... well...” she trailed off.

“Right,” he said slowly and swallowed hard at the look on her face - that pained half-smile - feeling guilty as he always did since the wedding. “River, I...”

“Shut up,” River said, and kissed him to show him that it was only practicality, not a guilt trip, that had prompted her use of the filters. _Guilt trip,_ the always-working part of the Doctor’s mind thought, _what an interesting phrase. I’ll have to look that up next time I’m on Earth._ He broke the kiss and smiled at River, offered her his arm.

“Shall we?”

She accepted the arm and scooped up her kit on the way out of the TARDIS.

And they walked out to the sight of a devastated landscape. “Dear god,” breathed River, and the Doctor agreed with the sentiment, although that dry, thinking part of his brain went on pointing out the ways in which this was not as disastrous as she feared. “Just... rubble, Doctor...” River said blankly. “Not even ruins, just bits of stone...” She shivered and he pulled her into the circle of his arm.

“No. Not a direct hit, my River,” he pointed out reasonably, “or if it was, a very _small_ meteor, because look over there...” he pointed with his free hand, “there’re trees still standing. Nothing is burning except the central tower, and the emergency crews have that under control.” He squeezed her shoulder and when she didn’t respond, shook her gently. “ _River._ Look at me. We dropped Jack off here not three hours ago by their timeline. If anyone can keep Evie safe in a situation like this one, it’s Jack Harkness.”

That was when the aftershock hit.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

Jack grabbed Evie and rolled her underneath him. He could survive - or revive - if more masonry fell on him. She struggled, trying ineffectually to protect his head with her hands. “Evie, stop!” If his mouth hadn’t been right beside her ear, she’d never have heard him over the rumbling. “God, _sweetheart_ , remember what you saw, what I _am_ , this can’t hurt me!” he almost sobbed into her ear, and her good sense overrode her instinct to protect. She pulled her hands in, made herself as small as possible under the protection of his body, and rode out the quake.

It seemed hours later when the shaking stopped, though it was less than a minute, and Evie sobbed with relief when she heard Jack’s harsh breathing above her. “Shh, you’re OK, sweetheart,” he murmured even as thoughts whirled wildly in his head. It was even darker now, he couldn’t see anything at all, and although he hadn’t died this time, one of his legs was pinned under something - a fallen beam maybe. But his biggest concern was that in this pitch black and tight space, how long would Evie be able to hold herself together?


	3. Touch

“Jack,” said Evie through chattering teeth, “are you cold? I’m cold.” He could feel her shivering beneath him and cursed inwardly. It wasn’t cold in here, not at all, so it looked like her panic this time was manifesting as chills. Which - all things considered - was better than screaming terror, but maybe they could cut this attack off before it started.

“OK, sweetheart, let’s find... you need sensory input, right? Listen to my voice, focus on my voice, Evie. You can’t see, but you can hear, focus on my voice...” Jack kept talking quietly to her, hoping that if he got her listening before the panic attack was full-blown it wouldn’t hit her quite as hard. Her trembling subsided just a little and Jack kept talking, just reminding her that she wasn’t alone, she was safe with him there, she should listen to his voice... and finally the tremors stilled, with just the occasional shiver.

That was when Evie started to move, sliding her hands out from underneath him and around his neck. “Jack?” His reassuring murmurs trailed away as she blindly sought his mouth and brushed her lips - oh so lightly - across his. She sighed his name into his mouth and traced his lips with the tip of her tongue, and it was his turn to shiver, though not with cold or fear. He swallowed.

“Evie.” His voice was low and rough-edged.

“Hush,” she whispered, and joined her mouth to his, stroking his tongue with her own. Her hands slid slowly - _god, so slowly_ , thought Jack wildly - from the back of his neck down to his hips, and she used them to pull him even closer and lifted her hips to meet his. “Need you, Jack, touch me, _please_...” she whimpered into his mouth, “ _Please_.”

Jack groaned. “Evie, I can move one hand and my head. I can’t touch you the way you need - you _deserve_ \- to be touched.”

“I can move,” she said, and demonstrated with her hips. He noted that her voice was still high and strained, and figured she was using the flirting and the touching to keep herself from falling apart. _Sensory input_ , he thought, _touch is a sense_ , and he groaned again.

“OK, baby, you move, you touch,” he said hoarsely, “and I’ll keep talking.” She whimpered and rolled her hips into his again, and he hissed at the sensation. “I can’t promise coherent speech though, if you keep doing that. _Evie_.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor held her elbow as they approached the team of rescue workers. “Can we help?” River called to them, “we’ve got friends in there and we’d like to help.” She patted her kit. “We’ve everything we need to supply ourselves, medical scanners, all that.”

The woman in charge of the rescue team looked at her tiredly. “Go for it,” she said, “but I need your names so if you get lost we can find you too.” She took out an electronic pad as River gave their names. “Right, John Smith, Harmony Rivers. Good luck finding your friends.” She turned away to the next task.

“Harmony Rivers?” said the Doctor incredulously into her ear, and River smiled at him, tucking her hand back into the crook of his elbow. He squeezed it with his other hand and kissed the ear.

“I’d thought about the visual, honey,” she admitted, indicating the perception filters they wore, “but I forgot about the names - and we can’t very well go by ‘River Song and the Doctor’ in this place and time, can we? They might even know ‘Melody Pond’. So I improvised.”

“I love when you improvise,” he muttered, and nibbled at her ear. For one moment she contemplated dragging him off somewhere and having her way with him, but then she sighed and pushed gently at him.

“We’ve hapless friends to rescue,” she said regretfully, “but hold that thought.”

“Thought?” He tried to look innocent and failed.

“Yes. _That_ thought.”

He sighed too. “Thought held, my River. Let’s go find Jack and Evie. Can you find them with that med-scanner of yours?”

“Maybe. Have to be close though. No more than a couple dozen meters.” Her voice was steady, though she had tears in her eyes. “If they’re alive.”

“River. I...” he shivered a bit... “I can feel Jack if I try - his _fact_ ness - in the back of my mind. He’s nearby. If he is with Evie, Evie is alive. I don’t have a... a _direction_ to go by, but I do know Jack is here on this moon, within a mile or two. And you can refine it from there.” He beamed at her, proud of himself, although the idea of _actively_ searching for Jack using the timelines converging on him obviously unsettled the Doctor a bit. River smiled at him and reached up to stroke the nape of his neck, then pecked him lightly on the lips and took his hand.

“Let’s go,” she said simply, and started toward the ruined building complex.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Evie was calmer now, not so panicked, but still wound tight with irrational fear. Jack could only reach the top of her head unless _she_ did the moving, because she was so tiny. “Evie,” he said gently, “let’s try again, OK?” He felt her nod under his cheek. “Alright, sweetheart, tilt your head up, good, just like that.” He smiled against her upturned lips and kissed her, long and slow and sweet, and felt her relax. “So beautiful, my lovely Evie,” he murmured into her mouth, and she laughed, a short, sharp, mirthless chuckle.

“I’m not that pretty.”

“It’s not mere prettiness, Evie. You’re _lovely_.”

“You can’t even see me, Jack.”

“I have a very good memory,” he assured her. “Would you like to hear how I see you?” At her hesitant - was it embarrassed? - nod he continued, voice low and affectionate, “Short and sassy copper hair, soft as silk, slipping through my fingers...” It was the one place he could reach with his imprisoned hand, so he suited action to word and combed his fingers gently through her hair. She sighed under his touch and relaxed a bit more. “Huge blue eyes that only a few get to see, because they’re usually crinkled up with laughter or concern for others... a little sweep of gold-dust freckles...” he kissed the tip of her nose, “...and full and generous and _kissable_ lips...” His lips slid to her mouth and fastened themselves there, swallowing the little sigh that escaped. “Mmm...” he hummed into her mouth, and then it was all tongues and lips and teeth for a while, and he _ached_ to touch her.

“God, _Evie_ ,” Jack breathed, finally, “so beautiful... listen, sweetheart, and I’ll show you the rest...” Evie moaned and arched her back so her body molded against his, her hands snaking around to pull him in closer. Jack’s breath caught and he strained toward her as best he could. He had to swallow hard several times before he could speak again. “Little pointed chin, like something out of a fairytale. Soft, _soft_ skin of your throat, with your pulse beating so fast for me. Compact little body, with creamy skin and little dips and warm rounded curves in _all_ the right places.” _Christ_ , he thought, _from the sounds she’s making, she’s getting off on my voice_ alone...  _and I’m not that far behind her_. “Damp coppery curls, so _wet_ for me Evie, so beautiful, and--” Jack broke off as Evie’s hips canted sharply into his, and he struggled for control as she lost her own.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor was making completely inappropriate little skips and hops around the ruined buildings. River was fully aware that it was nervous energy on his part and not disrespect for the seriousness of the situation or lack of concern for their friends, but she was still a bit annoyed at him for it. “Doctor,” she hissed at him, “this is not the place nor the time for this!” He grinned at her... but then he noticed the look in her eye, and he settled down immediately, stepping over a gap in the concrete underneath them and putting his long arms gently around her.

“Sorry,” he murmured into her ear, and she hoped it looked to others like she was being comforted, “I got carried away.”

She leaned back and gave him a look. “Oh, really? You? Never happens.” She waited until he looked like he _meant_ the apology, and then she leaned back into his embrace, gazing up at him. “Got anything?”

Now he really did look contrite. “I... Yes, right, must focus... sorry...” He frowned in concentration for a moment and then his boyish face cleared. “Around here somewhere,” he crowed, “I can feel him nearby. Try your scanner.”

River stepped back, and took out the scanner and turned it on, rotating slowly in place until the beeping noises sped up to blend into one long tone. “There they are!” she cried, and flung her arms around the Doctor’s neck, “ _Both_ of them, about ten meters that way!” She gestured with one hand and kissed him hard on the lips, and he staggered to keep his balance as his arms went automatically around her waist. They stood there holding each other for a long moment, tears of sheer relief welling in River’s eyes, and a certain little lump in the Doctor’s throat. _Must be the look on River’s face_ , he thought, _certainly not any concern for Jack Harkness of all people_. He broke away, embarrassed.

“Right,” he said with that little manic twirl, “let’s find us a _fact_.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

“Do you hear something?” Jack asked after he recovered enough control of himself to speak.

“Does the pounding of my heart count? Thank you, Jack, for everything you've done for me today.” He felt Evie smile under his cheek, and then she giggled at her own innuendo.

She _giggled_.

And it wasn’t that hysterical laughter of earlier that day either. Just a normal, Evie-style girlish giggle, and Jack felt tears prickle behind his eyes. He hadn’t realised until just now how afraid he had been that she wouldn’t recover from the traumas of the day, that he had made her _worse_ in his ignorance. _Don’t break down now,_ Jack my boy, he thought, _she still needs you_.

And then he heard the sound again, barely audible, as though it was coming from very far away, or through solid rock.

 _Through solid rock_.

“Jack...” came a familiar voice, faintly, “Evie...”

“Cover your ears, love,” said Jack and once he felt Evie do so, he bellowed, “Hey, you big goofy alien, in here!” over and over with amusing and insulting variations to distract himself. Suddenly and with no warning at all, a shower of gravel poured down on Jack, and his hands and one of his feet came free. He tugged the other foot out from under the beam now that there was more space, and once the sandy bits of masonry had stopped falling, he looked up to the tiny lit square a few meters above them. “Mr. Spock, Mrs. Doctor,” he said in his best faux-posh English accent, “Smashing - ha ha - to see you again.”

And then Captain Jack Harkness, intrepid explorer of time and space, began to cry.


	4. Talk

“I’ve never been so embarrassed in all my life,” admitted Jack to the Doctor an hour later. They were sitting companionably ( _ha!_ thought the Doctor) in the kitchen of the TARDIS, dipping fish fingers in an assortment of custards. “I... just fell apart.”

“Mmm,” agreed the Doctor, “females of any species can cause us to do strange things, Jack.” He nodded owlishly, and Jack thought he looked about fourteen, trading whispers about girls in the back of a classroom. “Our week for falling apart over human women,” the Doctor offered, like a gift, and Jack tried hard not to gape in astonishment at the confidence. He swallowed hard.

“‘Human’. Not River then?” Jack tried to be casual, dipping his fish finger in the lemon custard this time.

“Sarah Jane Smith,” said the Doctor hoarsely, and looked away. “Her children asked me to come to her funeral.” He looked incredibly woebegone, Jack thought, those ancient, sad eyes that couldn’t meet his at this point in the conversation, in that baby face. And he knew that the Doctor would have had no intention of going to Sarah Jane’s funeral, but that he was helpless against the children, _any_ children, much less those of a woman he had loved.

“I’m sorry, Doc. I liked her.” Jack remembered Sarah Jane. She had been in her fifties when he met her, the bookish-hot sort, feisty and intelligent. He _had_ liked her. Dammit, he understood why the Doctor was so devastated at her loss... because he himself remembered Estelle. “This outliving them all thing is pretty much crap, Doc.”

“Utter rubbish,” the Doctor agreed, and - sniffling - went to work on the vanilla custard.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

“Oh _bless_ ,” Evie moaned, sinking into the hot water, “this feels so good.” She stretched like a cat and sank into the tub, hissing at the water foaming in the scratches on her body, until the bubbles tickled her chin. She looked at the older woman in the adjoining tub. “River, are you _sure_ that we can get back right away? I mean, I know she’s a time machine, but...”

River smiled at her. “But you’ve patients to see, a life to get back to, and you’re fretting over lost time that isn’t really lost. I know how you feel; I did the same thing the entire way here. Why don’t you ask _her_? She likes you and she’d probably tell you. If she knows. Or knew. Or will know.”

_(reassurance, a sense of time, affection)_

River laughed. “There, you see?”

Evie nodded, eyes round. “It’s amazing when she does that,” she said, “especially when it’s just... conversational. I mean, when we were trying to... when she showed me the way to fix your nightmares, well... it was _intense_. But this... it was just like she’s another woman, putting her two bits in the conversation.”

_(affection, amusement)_

Evie laughed. “I like you too, Sexy Thing,” she said to the air, “but I would still like to get back to my patients as soon as possible. I suppose...” she trailed off.

“Suppose what, Evie?” asked River quietly.

Evie sighed. “I suppose I should tell Professor Siggy that I’m alive, and find out whether he... whether he wants me to resign or, or...”

_(sympathy, reassurance)_

“What happened, Evie? I know Jack would never hurt you, so what happened down there?” River looked so concerned, so worried.

So Evie told her.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

“So that’s why I have to see if Professor Siggy wants me to resign,” said Evie tearfully, “or at least take a leave of absence until I can get my own problems under control. What use am I to... _what_?”

River was shaking her head, half angrily and half sympathetically. “I think you’re doing both of them a disservice, Evie... not to mention yourself.” Evie stared and River’s expression softened as she said, “Evie, you cut yourself too little slack for being human. And if you really _truly_ think that either your lover or your mentor would just... just _drop_ you because you’ve shown them a little human weakness, then you don’t have a lot of faith in _them_ , do you?” Evie opened her mouth to argue, then looked thoughtful and closed it again. River hurried on, saying, “Now you’re going to worry and feel guilty because you think you hurt Jack by not trusting him, right?” She laughed at the shocked _how-did-you-know?_ expression on the younger woman’s face. “He’s stronger than that, Evie, and he loves you. Let him help you, please?”

“Yeah,” said Jack from the doorway, “Let me help you.” He leered at them both in a friendly fashion. “Either of you, or both. I can take it.” He walked into the room and kissed River firmly but briefly and then bent over Evie in her bubbles and kissed her far more thoroughly.

When they came up for air River was gone.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

The Doctor looked up from his custard as his wife entered the kitchen, wearing nothing but a towel and a smile. “Hello, Sweetie,” she said cheekily, and sat down across from him _. Thank goodness the fish fingers are gone_ , she thought _, I can handle the custard alone_.

“Is she alright?”

“She will be,” River assured him, “but she had a couple of panic attacks down there and she... she’s used to being the helper, not asking for help. Threw her off a bit. Jack will take care of her, if he has to shag her silly to do it.”

“Mmm...” he agreed, and dipped a long finger into the custard, holding it out to her. She licked it and then took the finger into her mouth, sucking lightly, and the Doctor closed his eyes to better concentrate on the sensation. River let his finger pop free and he whinged a bit.

“Jack alright?”

The Doctor stood up, walked around the table, and lifted the dripping mass of River’s hair gently off her neck. He loved her hair. “He will be,” he said between kisses and nips at her damp skin, “but the... fragility of human life hit him hard. Human psyche with the Time Lord lifespan. It’s hard for him.”

“For everyone.”

“Yeah. River?” he murmured against the soft skin of her throat, “let’s celebrate life. Right _now_.”

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

Jack and Evie walked into the tent that served as a temporary office for the head of the Psychiatry department, and a middle-aged man (Jack reflected that in this century that meant that he was about ninety years old) who looked remarkably like Sigmund Freud looked up. “Evie,” he cried, “Oh dear, you’ve been hurt.” He peered at Jack over the lenses of the half-moon glasses he affected, and said hesitantly, “Boe? Is that you, my boy? Did you come to help with the cleanup effort? You look...” he trailed off, perplexed.

“Older. He looks older, Professor Siggy,” supplied Evie, “He’s a Time Agent, remember?” She smiled at her mentor and kissed his cheek. “He’s going to drag me off again for a bit, but I needed to check in with you, make sure you were okay, and tell you...” she took a deep breath, “and tell you what happened to me after the quake, because it... it concerns your area of expertise.” She was clinging tightly to Jack’s hand, but other than that and the slight hesitation in her speech, she seemed absolutely her normal and cheerful self.

“Oh dear,” said the professor again, “it happened, did it? Scotophobia or claustrophobia?” He patted Evie’s shoulder as she gaped at him in shock, but Jack was on the move, stalking toward the smaller man, anger snapping in his blue eyes.

“You knew about this,” he said in a deadly quiet voice, and it wasn’t a question, “you knew about this and you didn’t _help_ her? What kind of shrink knows about a crippling phobia in one of his students - one of his _colleagues_ \- and doesn’t help her?” Jack’s voice was rising now as he advanced on the smaller man. “ _Why didn’t you help her_?”

“Jack,” Evie said quietly, gripping his hand even tighter, “it wouldn’t be ethical for him to treat me unasked, unless I was a danger to someone.”

“You were a danger to _yourself_ , Evie!” Jack shouted, rounding on her. She did not flinch, and reached up with her free hand to stroke his jaw.

“Not really, love,” she said softly, “but I’m _so_ glad you were there to help me through it, Jack, because I... I needed you.” She turned to the shorter man. “Both, by the way,” she said clinically, “and it appears that it has to be both darkness _and_ a tight space to trigger it.” She turned a smile on Jack and stood on her toes to kiss him. “And the voice of someone I trust _implicitly_ to talk me through it. Twice. But how did you know?” she asked her teacher.

“I didn’t _know_ , as such,” admitted the professor, “but there was a seventy-eight percent probability of one of the two phobias based on what you stole from the medical technology lab,” he smiled at her expression and said gently, “You thought I didn’t know? When a good and honest and diligent student does something uncharacteristic like that, we notice, and we watch to see what happens. And Evie...” he reached out to pat her shoulder again, “I _was_ your teacher in telepathic psychotherapy. I would not pry intentionally, but when you started you were clumsy at shielding your surface thoughts, and...” he spread his hands helplessly and cleared his throat, suddenly becoming very formal and academic. “Now, Professor Jones, if you feel up to it, we could use your help in the infirmary. Nothing urgent we can’t handle, but some of those students... what?” Jack was glaring at him.

“I wanted her to stay out of it until she recovered, in case you hadn’t _noticed_ the bruises and scrapes, _Professor_ ,” he said scathingly, knowing he was being unfair and not caring one damn bit, “but she insisted on checking in with you. And now, if she’ll allow it,” he stopped to kiss Evie hard on the lips, “I’m going to take her with me, shag her senseless, and get her a good night’s sleep. We’ll be back in an hour.” His mood was suddenly very, _very_ good and he laughed at the bemused expression on the professor’s face. “Time Agent, remember?” he said cheekily, saluted American-fashion and left, Evie clinging to his hand and waving goodbye to her mentor, laughing.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/- 

“ _Will_ you help with the cleanup effort, Jack?” Evie asked as they entered the TARDIS.

Jack nodded. “Of course I will. Don’t know if River and the Doctor should though, they took enough of a risk coming to find us. Doc?” he called, “River? We’re back.” There was no response from either of the people so addressed, but Evie got a definite impression of _(busy now)_ from the TARDIS and she laughed.

“Come on, sweet Jack,” she said, pulling him down to her. “I’m ready to be shagged senseless now. More than ready. And Jack?”

“Hmm?” It was difficult for Jack to articulate as he nibbled on her ear.

“Much as I love feeling you come apart over me, after the day we’ve had, I’d like to be on top.”

And Jack’s laugh rang out as he swept her up and carried her to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends this episode.


End file.
